


My Lotus Flower

by alexandriakeating



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, I don't really know what to say about this, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance, but before the epilogue, friendly little catch up in a Ministry's lift, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandriakeating/pseuds/alexandriakeating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with scars is hard, especially when those close to you don't understand that sometimes you don't want to live with the physical reminder. </p>
<p>Hermione is surprised that Draco of all people seems to understand this sentiment. </p>
<p>"You're like a lotus flower. Something beautiful, wondrous. Grown from the mud and filth, but all the stronger and more beautiful for it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lotus Flower

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfiction for Harry Potter. I've done Harry Potter AUs, but never one of actually Harry Potter. I can't really say where this idea came from. I've got no idea. It popped into my head, so I wrote. I apologize for any errors. I did my best. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Her fingers traced over the letters etched into her skin. The physical pain had faded years, so had the redness. She had hoped it wouldn't severely scar, but it had. Every line and edge and angle raised, pursed and white. The woman tended to favor long sleeves after her friends had convinced her not to seek out Muggle plastic surgery to remedy the situation.

_"It's a sign of your struggles."_

_"It's a part of you."_

_"You can't deny the past."_

And so on and so on.

She could very well remember everything without seeing the constant reminder plaster across her arm every day. Scrubbing at the scars with the palm of her hand, she let out a sigh. She pulled the sleeve of her shirt back down to her wrist. She pushed a loosening frizzy curl behind her ear willing it to stay up; she really didn't want to worry about her hair right now. 

A quiet rustle caught her ear. A paper plane drifted in through the door and settled on her desk. The young witch reached out and flattened the parchment out on her desk. Her eyes darted over the scrawled words. She recognized the Minister's handwriting before she got to the signature. He wanted her to come to a brief meeting that he "hoped to be the beginning of smoothing out relations between Muggle-borns and Purebloods"; his greater aim to be to remove "Pureblood superiority from the law". 

With a sigh she leaned back in her chair, that loose curl finally falling out. The frizzed strand blurred the corner of her vision. She growled in frustration as she sat forward and opened a drawer; her fingers clawed through the various knick-knacks and bobbles she had shoved in there. Giving up, she picked up her wand and, with the necessary movement, said a pointed, "Accio hairpin."

She lowered her wand as the clip appeared in front of her. Snatching it, she pushed it into her hair and, with a small struggled to get it to close, had the persistent curl tamed. Ron wasn't always the biggest fan of her still using them. 

_"Surely there's a spell for that, right?"_

_"Maybe, Ronald, but that doesn't mean I'm going to drop everything to do an unnecessary spell."_

She shook her head to dislodge the memory; she was in no mood to think of that red-headed.... _troll_. Grunting, she pushed herself to her feet and left her office. Making her way to the lifts, she stepped into an empty one and waited for it to be on its way.

Just before the grate could roll shut, a pale figure dashed in. He took in a large breath and puffed it out. 

Her heart stuttered when grey eyes met hers. 

"Ah, Granger. Off to the Minister's as well?"

"Yes," she squeaked out before clearing her throat. "Yes."

"Can't say I'm surprised. Wouldn't be wise to pick anyone else for negotiations," he stated, turning to face forward.

"Thanks." She matched his stance.

"How are things with Weasley?"

"Peachy," she bit out.

"Is that supposed to be a crack at his hair? If so, I approve."

She only grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Trouble in paradise for the couple? Better not let Skeeter catch wind of that."

"Hmph. I don't care what she writes."

"Really? Didn't you blackmail her fourth year?"

The young witch pursed her lips. Why was this taking so long? It shouldn't take this long to get to the Minister's office. 

"Before we start all of these... _negotiations_ , I just want to say one thing," the wizard next to her said. "I've actually been meaning to say it for a while now."

"What?"

"I don't see you as a mudblood."

She felt her throat constrict, but she swallowed. "Present tense."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true."

"But it does mean that your record is against you."

"Stubborn as ever, Granger. But, your missing the point."

"What point?" she questioned, turning on him.

He met her eyes.  "I admire what you've done with yourself. Perhaps, I had the wrong impressions of you when I was younger."

"Not much younger."

He ignored her and continued as if he couldn't stop, "You're like a lotus flower. Something beautiful, wondrous. Grown from the mud and filth, but all the stronger and more beautiful for it."

She her arms tightened around her chest protectively; a frown curled her lips. "That still sounds like mudblood to me," she shouted, her voice going shrill. "You  _just_  said I came from the mud. Isn't that what - "

"You're bloody annoying, you know that, right?" Draco sneered as he stepped closer and gripped her arms. "Yes, your circumstances are not...preferable. Don't look at me like that. Some things I can't shake. You came from Muggles, but you know what? That made you stronger.  _That_ made you who you are.  _That_ made you the brilliant witch you are today. And if those circumstances made you, how can I look down on them? And that's not the darkness you grew from."

He grabbed her left wrist and pulled it from her chest; he pushed her sleeve up to her elbow. Smooth finger pads caressed the puckered skin. "I remember that day," he whispered. "I remember it  _every day_. Sometimes, your screams echo in my head. I close my eyes, and I see your body, writing in pain, arching against her."

His voice grounded to a halt as he choked over his words. She was fighting against her own sobs.

"Me, too," she whispered.

"I'm surprised you haven't found a way to get rid of it. Don't Muggles have that sort of ability?"

"Yes, but everyone seems set that I don't. To show what I've lived through and all."

"Idiots," he growled. "You don't need a visible scar to remember it. And who the hell cares about showing what you've been through? Just live. If you want to keep it, keep it. But don't let Potter and Weasley convince you to keep it if you don't want it."

"Thanks," she said as she pulled her arm from his grip and pushed her sleeve back down.

"And don't think you have to stay with him either if he isn't taking care of you."

"It's a spat. We always get over them."

When was this blasted lift going to get there?

The wizard's hand dropped to her elbow and held the joint firmly. 

She yelped and was about to complain, but she soon found her mouth blocked by his. His lips engulfed hers, working fiercely against them, moving them to his will. He seemed possessed as he consumed her. He drew her closer and cradled her against him. But as soon as his lips appeared, they were gone, and the frizzy haired witch found her fingers entangled in his blond hair, arched into his body.

He smirked. "Can Weasley do that?" His face grew serious. "Don't forget what you need, and more importantly what you deserve."

The grate clanked open, and he was gone, walking down the hall. 

"Coming, Granger?" he called over his shoulder.

She ran a hand over her hair as she stepped out of the lift. It couldn't have opened any sooner?


End file.
